


Moxara Eyal: A Sith Journey

by Agilecipher



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agilecipher/pseuds/Agilecipher
Summary: Moxara Eyal, born 3658 BBY, forges her path through the Empire and beyond.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

"Please… yes…" Moxie fell limp against Vext, their bodies slick with sweat. Grasping her hip with his left hand, he cradled her head with his right, pinning her against the wall as he continued his assault of thrusts. Her thin arms grasped his broad, dark red shoulders as she took deep breaths, fingers gently stroking the back of his neck. "Oh, fuck, Moxie…" he grunted as he gave way into her, finding mind-clearing release. He leaned in, resting his forehead upon hers as he lowered her back down the wall and back onto her own feet. She raised a pale hand to his face, lightly brushing the short tendrils along his jaw. "You missed me, Lord," she purred into his neck. "No shit." His voice was rough as he pulled away. "I have to go back to the family compound between quarters." Moxie quickly closed the gap, giving him a fierce kiss, her hands pressed against his chest, but he grabbed her shoulders and held her at a distance. "Stop, pet." 

Moxie's hands fell to her hips as she continued to meet his gaze, her piercing blue eyes meeting his golden irises. "I am not pureblood Sith, but I am proven, loyal, and strong. Are you so ashamed of me, yet?" Her thin lips pulled tight as she dared him to voice what every teacher had made clear: she was human and not worthy, despite her strong command of the Force. Despite her tireless efforts in every class at the academy, despite every attempt to demonstrate her desire to succeed within their system. THEIR system. She fought off the voice in her head. It was her life now, her system as well. The Empire, the Sith - her life. 

He had a hard time focusing when she stood so assertively, her small frame lean and muscled from hard work, her pale skin fractured by so few scars, a testament to her skills. "We'll go to the Decorum Finals gala together - is that enough?" Vext scowled. His narrow face was taught, severe and weary for his mere eighteen years. Only when Moxie reached up and kissed his neck softly did he realize he'd been driving his fingernails into his palms. He feigned annoyance at his capitulation for her, despite telling himself repeatedly that his passion for her gave him strength - his only justification for the dalliance. He pulled away again, heading for the refresher attached to his private suite. "You'd best go."

Knowing full well she'd been dismissed, Moxie still waited until he'd turned away to roll her eyes. She donned plain black slacks and tunic, her normal academy uniform, and pulled on her boots. Waiting until Vext had closed the door to the refresher and had the shower at full blast, she stealthily crossed the room to grab his holopad. A recent communication from his mother was still the top alert.

Vexarost -  
Remember to wear your uniform and be sharp for your father's visit. He is bringing dignitaries this season and it will be in our best interests to impress them. Do you have an escort for this year's social? The holos from the last few years were so elegant - we, well, the committee that is, went all out this year. Whatever happened to that lovely girl you were dating, Perzna was it? I know her cousin is an accountant on Dromund Kaas. Can you imagine? I'd be mortified if you weren't Force sensitive. Send me an update so I can make seating arrangements.  
-Tavilor of House Nazdra

Moxie cringed and replaced the holpad exactly as it had been, then slipped out into the dorm hallway. Having a mother like that seems worse than none at all, she thought. The extra charges on her stealth-field belt would get her back to the general women's' dorms where she was housed for the foreseeable future. While it was hardly a secret that she and Vext had been seeing each other for the last few months, the letter of the law was against fraternization in the academy and thus against getting caught. She waited until she was safely inside her own private quarters before giving a heavy sigh. Her desire for Vext would always be tempered by his circumstances - the exact opposite of hers.  
\------------------

"You're two years his junior and he's taking you to the gala? Damn you, Mox…" The ebony-skinned girl in the shower beside Moxie threw her a look of jealous contempt before reclining her head back to rinse her hair. "Merl, you know I need the Lords and maybe even Darth Sterza to see me." Mox confessed, shivering under the perpetually cold water as she finished scrubbing herself. They trod out of the open shower to dry their hair, grabbing fresh towels from the rack. Moxie's shoulder-length blonde hair dried in mere minutes while Merl began fighting her heavy locks. "Still, I wouldn't mind standing next to THAT when presented. So…" Merl left the question hanging. Mox flipped her head back and wrapped the towel around her waist, letting her small breasts hang free. "So what?" "So what are you going to wear?" Merl sniggered and Moxie couldn't help but laugh. "This isn't elegant enough?" She spun, the small black towel around her waist her only covering. 

"I'd pay to see you wear that in front of the Moff and Darth Sterza!" Niot, a mere year younger than Moxie, still had more clout in this academy due to her full-blooded Sith status, as she never failed to remind anyone who would listen. "Oh, how much?" Mox gave a lusty wink to catch Niot off guard. "Pity your money can't buy you skill in the training grounds." Niot fled into a private shower as Merl and Moxie shared a look of solidarity. 

\----------------------

Moxie stood over the Clawdite cadaver that lay on the lab table before her while their teacher began lecture on anatomical properties. "A holo would have been fine by me," her lab partner whispered, wrinkling his nose at the odor emanating from the four corpses. Moxie nodded, giving an empathetic smile, but made careful notes in her holopad about the attributes of the shapeshifting species. She needed to maintain her marks in Foreign Anatomy, even if she wasn't going into Restorative Arts. Making a mental note to recharge her stealth field generator between lectures, she picked up the scalpel and began tracing the first incision. To her great pride, Moxie had been tapped to undertake a concentration in Assassination and Subterfuge, one of the more challenging specializations offered at the Sith Academy, and one of few that recognized the added value of her being human. It was far easier for her to infiltrate objectives across the galaxy with minimal suspicion, where a full-blooded Sith would stick out like a rancor in downtown Coruscant. 

Merl fell in beside Moxie as classes emptied into the hallway, students and staff alike heading to the mess. The noisy clatter of trays and din of conversation gave them a semblance of privacy as they sat together. "Wait, this is for your final? You've got to be kidding me." Merl pursed her lips tightly as Mox nodded her confirmation. "Infiltrating and obtaining evidence. Just getting into the senior gala proves I can get anywhere, but I'm going to take it a step further." She shoveled another bite into her mouth and checked the time on her wrist comp. "Ballsy, Mox. Even for you." Mox shrugged and swallowed. "I have to run - wish me luck. If I lock this down, I'm ensured the apprenticeship." Merl crossed her fingers, her dark eyes sincere. "I don't think you need luck, but I wish you the best."

Checking her holopad to confirm the office before knocking, Moxie entered to find her strategic advisor of studies half-asleep on his desk. She coughed loudly to announce herself and he startled to sit up. The years had not been kind to the older officer who now found himself shepherding the careers of new Sith who, to a one, would all outrank him upon graduation. "Ah, Moxara Eyra." "Eyal, Sir." "Have a seat." She perched on the edge of the bare metal stool before his desk. The blue projection of his screen was visible to both sides, displaying her current coursework and marks. "You have been satisfactory and recently begun your specialization - what seems to be the problem?" "No problem, sir," Mox nodded. "I know the deadline for apprenticeship applications is the end of this quarter -" "No, Mox. You have two years left before that is even an option." His voice was stern as he closed the projection of her report and stood. She rose, her voice betraying her desperation as she made her plea. "But sir, there won't be an opening for an apprenticeship in Intelligence -" He interrupted her again, stepping around the desk and opening the door. "You will be placed in two years as the Academy sees fit." She marched out of his office, annoyed that she would have to rely on a backup plan.

\----------------------  
"I can't have you wearing just anything. Oh, and my mother will be in attendance as she's on the committee." Oh, I know, Moxara thought as she accepted the metal card with Vext's credit. She pocketed it and snaked her arms around his waist driving her fingernails up his spine. "You have nothing to worry about, Vext," Mox purred up at him and planted a kiss on his jaw. "Good, because I have a small break before military strategy and could use," he put his strong hands on her shoulders and pushed her down to her knees, "some release."

The blood-red fabric hugged Mox's subtle curves as she slid into her gown. Tiny straps supported the wide, draped neckline that showed off her collarbone and the heavy fabric fell to the floor in an A-line with a short train. Only when she stepped forward did her long, pale leg emerge from the slit that chased up to her left hip, cast into sharp contrast against the black lining of the skirt. Tiny black gems dotted the fabric, raining down on either side of the slit to pool heavily on the train. She tugged the black, opera-length gloves up to her biceps and turned to her mirror to admire the effect. In the sea of black gowns, she would certainly stand out, but only the graduates had the dress code of uniforms and black gowns, but junior classmen were rarely invited. Let alone a low-born human, Mox thought to herself with a small smile.

"Hmm. You're missing something." Vext circled Mox, assessing her from her tightly-coiffed hair to the tip of her black heel. She stood tall, knowing he approved. "This should do." He held open a thin rectangular box, revealing a thin metal rod, sharpened to a point at one end and decorated with gems on the other. A subtle wave in the metal announced more value than the small red stones that dangled from the hair ornament. "Beskar - deadly and beautiful, just as you are." "Vext, it's brilliant." She was awed by the gesture - of course he wanted her to look elegant for the gala, but his praise was more than his self-serving vanity. He grinned, pleased with himself and removed it from the case, then pricked his finger with the sharp end to prove the sharpness. She took his hand in hers and sucked gently on his finger, her eyes promising a demonstration of her gratitude… later. If he weren't so damn smug, I might actually enjoy his company, Mox thought as she slid the rod into her bun. "Now, you're perfect." He opened the door to lead them to the event hall.

"Vexarost of House Nazdra and Miss Eyal," the committee chair announced as they entered the ballroom, having waited their turn behind the last ten couples. Mox kept her left arm wrapped tightly around Vext's and followed his pace as they proceeded onto the dais, her gown sweeping gracefully around her. "Upon graduation, Vexarost will begin an apprenticeship in the Ministry of War under Darth Arho." The audience of parents, Academy instructors, and influential members of the elite on Dromund Kaas clapped politely as Vext gave a quick bow. Moxara could overhear the subtle whispers as the clapping died down. The audience murmured as they descended from the dais, seeking to identify the unknown young woman. 

Meandering through the crowd, Vext led her to his parents and gave formal introductions. "Eyal, hmm, do I know your father from the Officer's club?" Vext's father assessed Mox with a critical eye. "Oh no, my Lord," Mox deflected with a thin smile, "but I have heard such wonderful things about your accomplishments with Logistics." "Yes, well," he nodded, "Some consider it less glamorous as Spheres of Influence are concerned, but we keep the Empire not only running, but growing." "I should so love to hear more." Vext gave an approving nod to her as she led the Lord away from their table. He turned back to his mother, who raised her "Not as pretty as that Perzna, but she has…" Vext's mother pinched her long red fingers together as she sought the word. "Perzna was weak." Vext interrupted in a clipped tone. "She was Sith." "By blood, yes, but she had neither passion nor strength. Moxara has these in spades." He flicked his eyes to where Mox stood with his father, mentally counting the minutes until he could tear that gown off of her. Watching her place a hand on the Lord's shoulder as they toasted, he was surprised to see them laugh at a shared joke. He stood as the pair returned, extending a hand to Mox and pulling her tightly against him. Giving him a polite smile, she took a sip of her wine. Step one accomplished.

"You have certainly found a unique treasure in Miss Eyal, Vexarost. You shall have to bring her for a visit when you return on your next break." Vext nodded to his father, "Yes, my Lord." With his parents' approval, perhaps Moxara could be more to him than a dalliance, the pet he had been so enjoying. She was, after all, so very good at pleasing him. He led her toward the dance floor and began to spin her when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "May I borrow Miss Eyal?" Lord Treize, ever-so-slightly taller than Vext, glared at her with his stern grey eyes as Vext bowed and offered her hand. "Of course, my Lord." Vext retreated to his parents' table while the elderly man Moxara in the last steps of the dance before leading her away from the dance floor. "You've done well, Moxara." "Sir?" She kept her face blank as she followed her academic advisor. "It is not an easy thing, to be human at the Sith Academy. Do you still plan a career in Intelligence?" She nodded, "I have been told it's where I can advance furthest with my… skills." "That may have been true, once, but a unique opportunity has presented itself." They approached a human man and a Sith-blooded woman, both in plain black robes with lightsabers at their hips. The lack of insignia born by the three strangers piqued Mox's curiosity - their uniforms were only slightly more formal than those of Academy students, but something was different. "Darth Movet and Darth Bollentan, may I present Moxara Eyal." She gave a curt bow as her head pounded - one of them was actively trying to dominate her mind. Her throat tightened as Darth Bollentan clenched her fist at her hip. A test, she thought and took a deep breath before exerting her own power, pushing the attacks away. Mox levelled her blue eyes across the three, and raised her chin: "My Lords, I would be happy to make your aquantaince without your unprovoked attacks." "But what fun would that be?" Darth Bollentan's face split into a wide grin, her teeth bright white against her red skin. "You didn't say she was charming as well, Treize." "She will do," Darth Movet agreed. Her advisor placed a hand on her shoulder. "You will get your wish of an early apprenticeship, Moxara. These are two of the Emperor's own assassins. Movet stepped forward and placed a thin, pale finger under Moxara's chin, his near-black eyes daring her to flee. "Oh yes - defiance and hate aplenty. I will take her." Moving with the grace of an apex predator, Movet was in his early thirties and wore his straight black hair in a short ponytail. Mox became acutely aware of the difference in their attire as he lowered his arm - black durasteel plating was woven into their robes, small scales of overlapping armor that moved as quietly as fabric. Bollentan smirked, the tendrils on her eyebrows pulling together. "I am so glad you didn't waste our time, Treize." "I wouldn't dream of it, but I must return her to her escort before we draw any more attention." "I do so look forward to beginning your training." Movet spoke thoughtfully as Treize led her away.

The rest of the evening was a blur to Moxara - a million questions swirled in her head and she knew their answers were parsecs away. It didn't even occur to her how quiet Vext had been as he walked her back to his quarters, for he was lost in his own thoughts. With his appointment within the Ministry of War, he would be given regular leave - he could allow himself the luxury of not keeping Mox at arm's length. He touched the light panel and set the room aglow and leaned against the wall, watching as Mox raised her arms and withdrew the hair ornament from her bun then gently removed the long black gloves. In the dim light, her pale skin seemed ethereal and he longed to see all of her and touch all of her. His mind raced as he realized that he longed to possess her heart as well as her body. "Vext, that was splendid, thank you…" she spun and smiled as he approached, then gave a small gasp as he knelt before her. "You were divine. No one could keep their eyes off of you." His voice was low and gravelly, filled with desire. He held her ankle and removed her shoe, tossing it aside before helping her out of the other. She pursed her lips at the intimate gesture that was out of character, biting back a grin as the evening's surprises continued. Vext rose slowly, tracing his fingertips up her leg as far as the slit in her gown would allow before withdrawing to caress her breasts through the fabric. She reached up to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his strong neck, and found his lips eager, sucking at her before taking possession of her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Her soft moan escaped his punishing tongue as his hands fell to the back of her gown, seeking to free it, but he pulled away in frustration. "Here." She tugged a small fastening along her right side, then pushed the small straps off her shoulders. The gown fell into a pool of fabric on the floor - Vext couldn't help but admire the effect of her seeming to float over a pool of blood. "Perfection incarnate." He resumed his assault on her mouth before dropping to bite at her neck, her continued moan of pleasure the only encouragement he needed as he ran a rough thumb over her tender nipple and squeezed the soft flesh of her breast. Moxara's eyes flew open as his other hand fell to her cleft and began gently massaging her, running a thumb in circles around her clit as a long finger began to dip into her, rotate, and withdraw. "Oh Vext!" she gasped in awe - their prior encounters had always been one-sided and she wasn't used to him touching her so gently. Her skin was so hot, she felt as red as his natural flesh as she began to fight his jacket off of him. Withdrawing his hand from her, he licked his finger. "You are delicious." He grabbed her by the waist and threw her onto the bed, then quickly removed his binding uniform. Moxie watched lustily, fingertips tracing the sides of her breast as his hard erection was freed. He fell onto her, pulling her small frame against his as he resumed massaging her clit and dipping his fingers into her. He smiled as she succumbed to the pleasure, her body quivering with each small circle his thumb drew around her nub. "Vext, I'm …" she moaned as her body clenched around his fingers, her eyes blissful as she looked up at him. "You never… before…" "Tonight I want you to be as satisfied as I am," he growled and gave a fierce sucking kiss to her neck, before pushing her thighs further apart with his leg. She reached down to guide him into her, appreciating how his erection could feel so soft and hard at the same time. He grunted with pleasure as he eased into her wet cleft, then pulled her legs over his shoulders before beginning the tempo anew. Gasping under his punishing thrusts, Mox gripped the sheets beside her, her mind clearing as she used her will to separate the pain from pleasure. Her breathing eased as he climaxed, his fingers digging deep into her hips as he gave a deep sigh of pleasure and fell away from her. Rolling over on her side, she was surprised to feel him curl up beside her and pull the blanket over them both, his heavy arm holding her possessively against him. Exhaustion from the long day quickly carried her into a deep sleep.

A loud knocking on his door shocked them both awake the next morning. "What the…" Mox rolled over and tried to assess the time. Vext grabbed his commlink. "It's only 5:30… plenty of time…" he mumbled, but the knocking repeated and a loud voice came through the door: "Moxara Eyal! Present yourself at once!" Moxara's eyes filled with panic as she looked at the pile of red fabric pooled on the floor, but she eased into it as Vext pulled on his jacket and trousers before helping he with the fastening. Her thin blonde hair fell around her face as she opened the door to find the womens' dorm manager flanked by two officers. "I can expl…" Moxara was interrupted when the dorm manager held her hand up. "These men will escort you to gather your things and prepare to leave." Her heart sunk - was she being expelled, sent away for being with Vext? She threw him a fearful look and he brought her shoes and one of his uniform jackets. "Make sure you check the pockets," he whispered into her ear as he helped her shrug into it. She slipped into her heels and was painfully aware of the loud clacking as she followed the trio back to her room. Patting the jacket, she discovered her hair ornament tucked into the hip pocket. The door to her room was ajar. The dorm manager turned and nodded. "Good luck, Miss Eyal. I'm sure we will be bowing to you soon." Utterly befuddled, she watched as the older woman headed back through the dorms and the officers took posts on either side of the door. She stepped inside to find Darth Movet perched against her desk. She pulled the door closed behind her, not wanting any random students to overhear what would transpire. With his back to her lamp, his face was hidden in shadow. "My lord?" She entered and bowed deeply. "You will call me Master, and I do hope you got some rest. I was not exaggerating when I said I look forward to beginning your training." He stood up and paused while she sought to read his body language. The slightest intake of breath was her only warning before he lunged at her, pinning her thin wrists above her head and pressing her up against the wall. Gasping, she crossed her hands and used her full bodyweight to pull them down and apart, freeing herself as she aimed a knee at his groin. He turned his hips aside, dodging her leg, and grabbed her thigh, sweeping her off her feet and throwing her to the ground. He held a long forearm against her collarbone and grabbed her left wrist, holding it low against her stomach so he could block her wildly kicking legs with his shoulder. With her right hand, she withdrew the hair ornament and pinned it against his neck, hard enough so he could feel the pressure without drawing blood. "Stop!" she shouted. He grinned and his dark eyes danced as he pulled away, just enough for her to see his lightsaber pinned against her stomach. Had he activated it, she would have been instantly killed. "Very good." He returned his weapon to his belt clip and stood as her arm fell flat against the floor, her breathing heavy. Reaching out with his left arm, she met his grip with hers and let him pull her to her feet. He stroked the tightly clipped goatee that flattered his high cheekbones. "Resourceful and -" he glanced at the hair ornament she still grasped "prepared." Her breathing slowed as she assessed her new master. "If that's what you can do without your powers, I'm optimistic. You have twenty minutes to clean up and be ready to board - my shuttle is in Bay 2." He gave her another broad grin before leaving her room, and she could hear the officers fall into step behind him. The docking bays were a good ten minute walk from her dorm, five if she jogged. She grabbed a towel and ran to the bathroom, scrubbing herself in record time and pinning back damp hair into a ponytail as she looked about her room. She pulled open the wide duffel bag that had been left on her bed and threw in her underthings and few personal effects before heading out. Mox didn't even try to hide her massive smile as she jogged along, the past ten years of her life falling away as she strode into the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moxara arrives on Darth Movet's ship...

Moxara checked her wristcomp as she reached Bay 2 in the spaceport hangar: three minutes to spare. She ran her fingers over her ears out of habit, her still-damp hair still neatly tied. She wore the casual black tunic and slacks all students were provided when not required to be in formal uniform. Adjusting the duffel bag over her shoulder, she bent to run her hand over the top of her right boot, where she had tucked the hair ornament. Mox made a point to never get attached to physical things (and tended to do the same with people), unless they proved useful. Worth keeping close. The terminal guards waved her through as she passed the security check and with a low groan of machinery, the wide bay door spit apart in four sections, retreating into the wall, revealing a Fury-class Interceptor - one of the more common ships issued throughout the Empire - with the docking bay down. Well, at least that's familiar, Mox thought as she strode up to it. The exhaust ports spewed pale fumes behind the triangular wings as the ship gave a quiet rumble - it was already prepping for departure.

Her wristcom buzzed the top of the hour as she reached the bottom of the ramp, which suddenly began to raise. She looked up to see Movet standing in the hatch, his arms crossing his chest with a smirk on his face. Moxara squinted and made a calculated Force-assisted leap, launching herself safely onto the top of the ramp and walking down it as it secured. He's definitely going to keep me on my toes - good thing I love a challenge. Mox gave a polite bow: "Darth Movet. I am at your service." He nodded his approval, his eyes hooded under his dark brows. "Welcome to the Leensoah - I trust you're familiar with the model." "Yes, Master." "Can you pilot?" He led her up to the long hallway that bisected the craft. "I can keep her afloat, but am not specialized in astrogation nor combat maneuvers." "So you do have an iota of modesty - I was beginning to worry." "Master?" She looked up at him, unsure of his meaning. "I jest, Mox - your friends call you Mox, correct?" "Such as they were." Fleeting thoughts of Merl and Vext, a few useful lab partners - not friends, but those she had affiliated with for years - imposed themselves on her mind. He waited, sensing her conflict. "You will find me a very fair Master - more reasonable than most who have earned the title Darth, I believe - but we have very real work to do. What you do, and with whom, in your free time is up to you, so long as it never compromises our status or work, is that clear?" "Yes, Master." She tightened her grip on the bag over her shoulder. "Good. Come - the crew should be waiting in the conference room." Oh, of course there is a crew for a vessel of this size.

"My crew varies over time, based on assignments and need, but these three are the core team," he waved her into the room. "Bit is our logistical engineer, as well as a peerless comms and slicing expert." An older human male with coal-black skin touched two fingers to his brow in a mock-salute. "Foohn is the best pilot I've ever met, as well as the only mechanic I trust with Leensoah." While Bit wore his silver hair woven to his scalp in tight ropes, Foohn's ghostly-pale visage was free of all hair. The Rattataki nodded his head solemnly at Mox, his lips parting to reveal file-sharpened teeth. She could make out the subtle hint of decorative scarring leading down the open chest of his tunic. I'm sure they'll be less imposing when they speak, Mox assured herself, despite having the distinct impression that the two men wanted to flay her. Across from the two men, a Twi'lek woman who couldn't have been much older than Mox yet towered over her, stood and bowed deeply. "Thessa is my medic and," "Servant in all things, Master." Movet smirked at her interruption as she threw him a beautiful smile, her pale violet face glowing with the beauty that made Twi'leks appreciated - and enslaved - across the galaxy. Mox noted that Thessa bore no shock collar nor other signs of enslavement on her elegant limbs. Her provocative outfit, tight pants that barely covered her hips and a dark gray bustier covered by a short orange jacket, was tempered by the two functional-looking blasters slung from her belt. Thessa reached out and took Mox's hands in her delicate violet ones and Mox was surprised at her warmth. "As I serve my master, so shall I serve his apprentice - you need only ask…" Movet waved her away: "enough simpering, Thessa" and she retreated a step, still smiling at him as she clasped her hands behind her back, prominently displaying her chest. Oh, she's good, thought Mox. I might even learn something from her. "This is, obviously, my new apprentice, Moxara. You will afford her the same respect you give me. Now," he clasped his hands and smiled. "We have work to do. Foohn - plot our course for Alderaan." The Rattataki stood and gave Movet a curt nod before heading off to the bridge. "Bit, can you verify the intel the Moff provided on House Gar - we're going to do some wet work, so I'll need compound layouts with options." "Shouldn't prove difficult - lazy nobles write lazy code." His voice was soft and pensive. He seemed lost in his own thoughts as he wandered out of the conference room. Movet watched him leave and turned back to the women, extending his black gloved hand to Thessa. "Now, my pet?" The Twi'lek sprung forward, taking the two paces as lightly as a bird dropping a talon while skimming over water. She grasped Darth Movet's hand and turned it over, placing a kiss on the back of his knuckles while maintaining eye contact. If the gesture were any more intimate, Mox would have felt the need to excuse herself. "Show my apprentice to the room you prepared," he glanced at Mox. "I've had Foohn make some alterations to the ship so bunks are separated. The refresher is still shared, but I find privacy, well-placed, empowers trust and loyalty." This man gets more interesting by the minute, Mox thought. Thessa spun, drawing Movet's hand across her exposed hip as she looked down at Mox. "I've laid out the armor and tech our generous master has provided." She reached out to Mox, who realized she sought to take the duffel bag she'd kept slung on her shoulder. "I'm fine. Lead the way." Thessa feigned a pout and shrugged as Movet stepped back into the doorway to let the women exit the conference room. "Mox - meet me at the holotable when you are settled and I will get you up to speed." "Yes, Master."

She followed Thessa down the main hall to a small compartment with a bed and storage. Thessa threw open the wardrobe and Mox couldn't help but smile - rows of black robes, tunics, and slacks were hung beside a set of armor such as Movet had worn at the ball last night. Egad, was that really just last night? She felt the ship tilt as it begin to embark and Thessa reached out and squeezed her hand. "Welcome, Mox, truly. If Movet chose you, you are indeed special." Thessa left Mox to her thoughts as she dumped her duffel on the bed and looked at the trunk in the corner. The first tray held a standard commlink - she realized the one she still wore had been issued by the Academy. Won't be returning that any time soon. She set her old one on the small shelf and strapped the new one to her left wrist. She tapped the holopad that lay next to it and was grateful to see it empty - hopefully Movet wouldn't have her reading old tomes. He doesn't seem the type. She lifted out the tray to find the next layered with a hold-out blaster, three frag grenades, three ion grenades, and delicate knife hardly wider than her hair ornament. She exchanged the two, sliding the thin blade into her boot and laying the ornament gently on the tray. The third layer of the chest held a small repair and maintenance kit. No vibrosword or … Mox dared not hope so soon for a lightsaber. She arranged the contents of her duffel in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and paused to look at herself in the wall-mounted mirror, running her fingers over her ears to tuck back any stray hair. I will become what they want of me. I will follow their rules. I will play their game. Until I can write the rules. She repeated her promise to herself, clearing her mind before heading out, letting the automated pocket door shut behind her.

Making a point to walk quietly down the hallway, she wanted as much time to observe as possible. Mox paused against the narrow wall, placing a hand on it and feeling the vibrations and hum of the vessel that would be her new home. Leensoah was clean and seemed in good repair. A quiet beeping alerted her to the presence of a droid as a T7-unit, a short rounded astromech, rolled past her, seemingly heading to the cargo bay. If that's what it still is. I'm curious about the modifications he mentioned. The central area of the ship contained benches around the holotable, currently projecting some sort of compound. Must be the target on Alderaan. Mox clung to the wall and did her best to remain unseen as she watched Darth Movet pace around the table, occasionally zooming in on areas or spinning to view from a different angle. His black hair shone under the harsh lights and Mox noted how he moved. He emanated strength and confidence, each step deliberate and movement calculated. Her thoughts began to drift to inquiry as to how he looked without the armor… Dangerously attractive, indeed.

"Please keep your thoughts to yourself, Apprentice." Moxara gasped in shame as Movet turned on a heel and faced her, arms clasped behind his back. "Come here." Keeping her eyes down, she strode toward him, pausing a half meter away. "Master, I…" "You thought it was Bollentan trying to pierce your mind last night." She glanced up in earnest embarrassment, and found his scowl quickly turning to amusement. "No, that was me - you threw up defenses quickly, but you did not default to protect yourself. That said, our bodies are tools of the Emperor himself, his alone to use or destroy as he sees fit. Part of our duty is maintaining our tools." He resumed pacing around the holotable. "I was keenly aware of last night's attack," Mox ventured hesitantly, "but you were passively aware of my feelings and thoughts just now, were you not?" He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "A gift, and a burden, unless I actively tune it out. I was curious as to your first impressions of my crew." "Your comment about giving the crew separate quarters and respecting their privacy, then, was…" "Yes," Movet interrupted her. "I make a point to afford them privacy of mind as well. You should know though," he lowered his voice to a mock-whisper. "Neither Bit nor Foohn would hurt a fly - it's Thessa you have to worry about." Moxara raised an eyebrow in distrust. "Now, we are en route to Alderaan, where a lord who has been happily complying with Imperial supply needs for many years has suddenly…" "Grown troublesome?" Mox ventured a guess. Movet nodded. "Before we throw blunt force at the problem, it is worth investigating. We can easily pose as visiting diplomats from some blithering Republic moon and flatter them into sharing the truth of matters." Moxara's eyes shone brightly with eagerness for her first infiltration as Movet began to explain the layout of the holoprojected compound and his strategy.

Two hours flew by before the T7 unit rolled through and gave a persistent series of beeps, startling Movet from a detailed tactical approach into the Alderanian compound. Moxara welcomed the break as they were herded into the conference room for a meal. Thessa served the identical trays before each crew member, pausing to give a gentle squeeze to Bit's shoulders, a brush of her fingers along Foohn's bare scalp, and a kiss to Movet's neck. Each man smiled up at her with their obvious comfort and gratitude for the attention. Moxara was surprised to receive a playful twirl of her short ponytail from the affectionate Twi'lek as Thessa sat before her own tray. She could melt pure carbonite, Mox thought, noting how Thessa entertained the crew. Suddenly aware of her exposed thoughts, she focused her Force abilities to guard her mind, putting a barrier up despite no sensory attacks. "You are not wrong, my Apprentice." Movet grinned at her across the table. "We are very lucky to have Thessa as a skilled healer and companion." Foohn snorted, hiding his face behind his pale hand. "Her default setting is flirt - I was concerned she was a droid for the first cycle on board." Thessa pouted in response before returning to her meal. "My young apprentice knows something of the art, elsewise I do not believe I would have had the pleasure of her introduction." Moxara swallowed heavily, knowing her pale skin betrayed her blush all too easily. "Well, a good dress does most of the work for a gala like that." Foohn stared her down. "Please tell me you still have it." Mox shook her head, keeping her eyes intently upon her food as she worked to maintain a mental shield. The memory of Vext plucking her from the fallen gown and … it was too much, too soon. "It wasn't really my style." Foohn sighed with genuine disappointment. "Foohn is a master synthweaver, in his spare time. He makes my best gear and the suit in your wardrobe," Movet explained. "Aha!" Mox gave an accusatory laugh as she put the pieces together. "When you were glaring at me earlier, you were sizing me up!" Foohn nodded, his thin smile yet again showing his devastatingly sharp teeth. "Guilty as charged. I adjusted it based on the holo the Darth provided, but," he shrugged. "You will have to let me know if it needs tailoring. I should have liked to fiddle with that gown though - it was a work of art." Mox flicked her eyes at Movet: "It was a tool - a means to an end. It got me what I wanted, albeit in an indirect way." He gave her a small nod of approval. See, I already have some tricks up my sleeve. 

Over the next three days of travel, Mox grew comfortable with the layout of the ship and her place. She sat in the co-pilot's chair beside Foohn and studied the astrogation charts each morning, completed her bodyweight exercises before a mid-day meal, and meditated after. The afternoon was spent with the Darth as he detailed the key players in their mission, what espionage reports had provided on them, and how each might be influencing the transfer of resources. When she felt she could identify any of the targets should she meet them on the street, they parted before taking dinner with the crew. Bit had yet to say a single word, but for some reason his silence was calming to Moxara. Thessa insisted on a physical exam and deemed her in good shape, marking off her inoculations and recording her medical data. When she retreated to her compartment at night, she pulled out her old commlink and saw a series of messages from Vext.

0523411 - Moxie - what happened? Where did they take you? Tell me now!

0523415 - Mox, my pet, are you okay? No one at the academy will tell me anything.

0524031 - I don't know if you're even getting these. I hope you're okay.

She turned it off, leaving them marked as unseen. It wasn't worth dwelling on the past. He had served his purpose and gotten her in front of the right people. Surely he knew it had been a transactional relationship, nothing more. She was conflicted that Merl hadn't written, but the one person she'd shared any details of her plan with would know that if she left, it was a good thing. She vowed to not look back.

The next morning, Movet led her to the cargo hold and started digging through storage crates until he found the one he sought. "Single or dual? You don't strike me as a polesaber, and I find them excessively difficult to disguise." Mox focused on repressing her excitement, remaining calm. "Single, Master." He nodded and removed the top tray from the durasteel container and withdrew a heavy fabric bundle. "This should suit." She laid open the cloth on the crate beside her, revealing an intricate lightsaber - one of the most ornate designs she had seen. It was smaller than most, with the grip wrapped in black leather and the activator rotational beneath three flared spikes. "How does that feel?" It was heavy in her hand, but narrow enough for a comfortable grip. She turned it over in her hand before igniting it. The red blade flared to life, humming and resonating as she drew a defensive circle out of habit. "Perfect, Master." She deactivated it, plunging the cramped room back into relative darkness. "Thank you." "It is my job to ensure you have the tools you need." His tone was somber as he replaced the tray and locked the crate. "Do be careful with that. I sacrificed much to part it from its prior owner." Mox attached it to her belt and ran a finger down the grip, memorizing every join and etching of the device. "I'm honored and will ensure its use for the glory of the Empire." He nodded his approval. "Now, something less enjoyable - for me at least." He pulled down another crate and withdrew a stack of brightly colored clothes, throwing one bundle at Mox. She held it up - a garish noble lady's gown. "Another gala, so soon?" She asked. "Hah. No." His voice was flat. "We will enter Alderaan as representatives of a trading enterprise - hiding in plain sight to assess the political atmosphere before we approach our targets." "And I'm to pose as… your assistant? In this silly dress? Your wife?" Mox was deeply skeptical. "No, Mox - my daughter." It took every iota of Mox's willpower to not cringe visibly. "Go try that on and take it to Foohn if it needs modification, as well as the armor. In all likelihood, we will need both.

When her cheeks had abandoned her embarrassed flush, she poked her head out of her compartment. She felt ridiculous with the high collar and puffed sleeves - it felt like a yellow sack. Seeing no one, she stepped out, heading toward Foohn's workshop. "Oh sweetie, you look so CUTE! Just like a doll!" Thessa gushed, coming up behind her. Moxara threw her a devastating glare before grabbing bunches of the over-long dress in each hand and stomping off. I'm a damn Sith Apprentice, not some frivolous doll. Thessa's giggles followed her down the ship as Mox worked to control her fury. She reached out to knock on the frame of the workshop to get Foohn's attention and paused. He was hunched over one of the workbenches and in his left hand was a small holo with a projection of a couple dancing. Though still, the projection rotated slowly, giving the illusion of motion. The smallest gasp escaped Mox's lips as she realized it was her, dancing with Vext at the gala. Foohn turned and shut it off. "I'm sorry, Moxara. I shouldn't have kept it. But it really was a lovely dress." His eyes dropped to the monstrosity she wore now. "Unlike some things." She agreed with a smile. "Just do me a favor and send me a copy of that holo. It is a good memory." He nodded and positioned her on a small crate, beginning to mark the hem. "How long have you worked for Darth Movet?" she asked as he knelt behind her. "Hmm, I was purchased for him by his former master when he received this vessel. He must have been about your age - we both were, to be honest, so eight years ago." He paused as he shifted around to her hip. Oh, he's much younger than I thought. "Five years later, when he dispatched her and took the title 'Darth' he freed me. Gave me the option to hop off on any planet." "But you chose to stay?" He stood and circled her, rolling a sleeve up to the proper length. "I didn't have anything to go back to, and starting fresh, well, didn't appeal." Backing away to assess the evenness of his work, he nodded his approval. "One Alderanian noble girl. Just make sure to wear your hair down if you're to look younger." "Actually, can I ask one more favor? It would be so nice if this had pockets, or at least slits… I will feel better being armed or at least having the option of comfort if I have to escape this in a hurry." "Perfectly reasonable!" The Rattataki grinned and helped pull it off over her head. "I'll finish it up this afternoon." "Thank you - truly."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, you must be here for the ball - the young lord's coming of age event!" the desk clerk announced cheerfully as he checked them into the hotel. Movet bowed his head as he clasped Moxara's ruffle-clad shoulders. "I couldn't let my singular gem miss the opportunity, she so desires to settle on Alderaan and start a family." The steward handed Movet the keys to their suite as Mox feigned her most simpering girlish eye flutter. "I must admit, I haven't been back to Alderaan for some time - where might I get a drink, possibly play a game of pazzaak?" "I'd be remiss not to point you to the Thantra's Nest where all the noblemen tend to gather." "Much obliged," Movet nodded again and led Moxtara up to their suite with T7 rolling quietly behind. "Tell 'em Timper sent ya!" the clerk hollered after them.

The two-room suite on the second floor shared a small sitting area and boasted a balcony overlooking the promenade. The bright light of early afternoon flooded in, giving a false sense of warmth - the late fall chill of Alderaan came in icy winds from perpetually snow-capped mountains. Mox pulled her gown over her head and tossed it on the foot of her bed before pulling her hair back tightly. _The poor girls who suffer that nonsense must be as dull as their dresses are garish._ "Main objective?" Movet shouted from his room. "Discover why Lord Gar is no longer providing shipments to the Empire." Mox walked to his doorway and stood at attention, her hands clasped behind her back. "Secondary objective?" His bare back was to her as he pulled off the Alderanian-styled doublet and pulled his black tunic on. "Prevent future failures to comply with Imperial requisitions." "Tertiary objective?" He tugged his armored wrist-guards into place and traded the decorative belt for his stealth generator before clipping his lightsaber to his hip. "Master?" _They hadn't discussed more than the two, though had talked their details to death._ "Your training, my apprentice." He spun to face her, his coal black eyes menacing. Moxara remained calm, steeling herself for the unknown as she assessed her master's stance - a surprise attack wouldn't be out of character. Instead, he waved his hand as if to say "farewell" and turned on his stealth field generator. With a subtle flutter of the air around him, he blended into the room. She watched carefully as he moved to the doorway, sensing him through the Force as much as with her eyes. "I trust you have played 'hide and seek'" his deep voice came from right behind her. "Yes, Master, as a child." "Good. Get your belt and come find me on the promenade. We need to get you a different gown for the ball and I'll be damned if I'm explaining that expense to Oversight." She raced back to her room and equipped her belt, checking the mirror for functionality as she heard the balcony door open. Taking a deep breath, she leapt over and begun the chase.

This midday crowds filled the city center with noise and color as people hustled along to keep warm. Landing deftly on her soft boots with the aid of the Force to slow her, Mox scanned for obvious gaps and reached out with her senses. Movet was still a mystery - she had no connection to ease her seeking. Pausing, she thought of his earlier lesson: multiple objectives. She flowed through the crowd like a breath of air, scanning the signs over the shops and identifying a women's' clothier. With a deep satisfaction, she re-established her mental defenses and continued around the side of the shop, where a thin ripple in the air betrayed Movet's presence. He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the employee entrance, his back exposed. Letting her pride getting the better of her, she reached out to tap on his shoulder. She was rewarded with the full weight of his bracer-sheathed forearm against her throat as he flattened her against the wall, pinning her leg with his hip. She struggled to breathe, her hands clawing against his arm in a futile effort. "Very disrespectful, Apprentice. Do not try my patience further." He pulled away and she fought to stand as her breath returned. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Master," her voice a choked whisper. "You did not fail me. You annoyed me. The two are very different. Now. We will go in, you will find what you need, I will cause a small distraction, and we will escape separately. I will meet you back in the suite." She could make out the bare outline of his face, the hawk-like lines of his nose and sharp chin, when they were so close. "Yes, Master." "Tertiary lesson: open the door." She patted her belt and realized the stealth belt didn't have her normal kit with her lockpicks. Panicking, she patted her thighs, then remembered the small shiv in her boot. She withdrew it and gently slid it up the gap to release the lock, then gently eased the door back an inch. Movet slid inside with Mox close behind. Faced with a dimly-lit hallway made of stacked boxes, they edged along the wall. Suddenly, Movet thrust his straightened arm across Mox to keep her back. The stocking room revealed a table with two men huddled over a card game. Movet's arm lowered and she nudged up against him to see.

"Damn little lordlings and their bratlings. I just want to move the cargo." A heavyset male with his back to them tossed two cards onto the pile. "Pubs want it kept quiet," hissed the Trandoshan across from him. "We smuggle their weapons in or it looks like they're raising a military for an invasion, and that would violate the peace treaty." "They don't want it to LOOK like that's what they're doing, but it damn well is. I fold." The Trandoshan swept the chips toward himself as the man started re-shuffling. "They unload tonight while everyone's at the first opening ball. Damn lords and their balls…" The man guffawed at his own joke. "Deal. I'd say I don't have all day… but that would be a lie worth of the Republic." The Trandoshan gave a low hissing laugh. _Well this trip just got more interesting._ Movet tapped Moxie twice on her shoulder and began skirting around the room. They slid through the open door to the back of the main shop, which was thankfully occupied by only two other patrons, older women gossiping loudly about whose daughter would nab Lord Gar's son. Mox found an appropriate dress of gold lamé and slowly removed it from the hanger, lowering it between others to fold in a small bundle. As it began to give a soft crinkle, a shelf on the opposite wall of the shop mysteriously broke, sending glass jars of hair ornaments crashing to the floor. _Perfect timing, Master._ Moxie finished balling up the dress and shoved it under her tunic before slipping out the front door.

"Change of plans. Bit: I need you to get two invitations to the damn gala - they will be scanning codes at the entrance, but I’m sure some idiot uploaded a vid on the holonet. I also need you to escort my apprentice into the ball. She can't show up alone and I'm heading to the spaceport." Movet barked instructions into his comlink as Mox landed safely on the balcony with a Force-assisted jump. "Invites… I can du-du-… I can get. Escort, no wa-wa way." Bit's stuttered reply came through. Movet had turned off his stealth generator and paced the sitting room. "Don't worry - you won't have to stay. Just walk her in so she's seen." He gave a nod to Mox as she turned her stealth field off. "I'm confident she can handle the rest." He relayed their room number so Bit could come get the nobleman's costume and pick up Mox before the event. Moxara shook out the golden dress and laid it over a chair. "Nice choice - that will look good on you, and you need to be noticed." Mox gave a faux curtsy, though was genuinely pleased with the praise. "I will expect bi-hourly check-ins while we are apart. Figure out any leverage we can get against Gar." "May I inquire as to your plan for the spaceport, Master?" "I will work that out. Oh, and here." She reflexively caught the small metal circle he flung at her before realizing it was a dainty tiara from the shop. "You've been elevated to duchess." He gave a cold laugh as he strode into his room, pulling the door shut behind him. Mox grabbed the gown and retreated to her room.

A few hours later, a gentle knock on her door pulled her out of meditation. _Far too timid for Movet - must be Bit._ The deep red doublet that had seemed comical on Movet looked elegant on Bit's coal-black skin and she told him as much. "I brought the invite chips and di-di- a meal." "That was very thoughtful of you." Movet's door opened as they sat around the low table to eat. "Why aren't you ready, Apprentice?" His thick brows furrowed in annoyance. "It does not take an hour to put on a dress, Master." A sudden tightening on her throat left her grasping for air, then quickly released. "I won't leave a mark when it is of value to our objective that you remain pretty, but you will not be so pert with me." "Yes, Master." Moxara lowered her eyes in resignation. _That was wholly unnecessary. He must be projecting his own stress._ She carefully swallowed the last bite of her meal and glanced out the window - the sun was rapidly setting. She retreated to her room and undid the buttons on the dress - it was fitted along the top such that she could not wear her tunic beneath… or do the buttons herself. Thankfully, the skirt was long enough that she could wear her comfortable boots and slacks. She kept her lightsaber on her hip, her comlink silenced in her pocket, and checked her small blade was fitted properly along her calf. After brushing her hair, she stood before the mirror and assessed how her pale locks fell over her exposed décolletage - a decent balance of youthful and enticing, she hoped. She fitted the tiara and opened the door to hear Movet berating Bit. "… must not spoil the girl! She is to be hardened and refined, not coddled." he paused as she stepped out and spun to expose her un-buttoned back. "I'm afraid I need some assistance. These noble ladies must have servants and dressers…" She swallowed deeply, hoping this did not come off as rude or trite. "As do many warriors for our full armor or regalia." Movet's voice was surprisingly gentle. For the first time, she could feel him approach, truly sense his presence through the Force, as he crossed the sitting room to her. "This is your armor tonight." He deftly clasped the tiny pearl buttons. It was a constant struggle to keep her mind enshrouded while around him. "Thank you, Master." She turned and looked up into his eyes and could read nothing. "I will keep you apprised of my progress, as I am able." "Yes, I am assuming I shall be radio silent for a good portion of the night. Bit can guide you through any emergency evac, but I am expecting you will be able to get close to the Gars with," he paused and Mox swore there was a slight glimmer in his eye, "social graces."

Once they had left, Movet found himself pacing the hotel room. _Moxara is too impulsive and willful, but she does know how to take control of a situation_ , he justified sending her alone. Treize thought her ready for real training or he wouldn't have brought her to me. The sun began to set and he strapped on his armor, layering scaled synthwoven pieces to create an impenetrable black shadow. He pulled on his black facemask and engaged his stealth generator as he prepared to infiltrate the spaceport and verify the filthy Republic scum had, in fact, breached the treaty. She will be fine. I must focus. The Force will serve us both.

\---------------

When Movet stealthed back into the hotel room, the light of dawn was breaking over the horizon. It streamed through the glass doors of the balcony, across the sitting area, and set Moxara aglow: her small form lay across the fainting couch, the golden dress shimmering in the crisp morning light. He knelt to pick up the delicate tiara had fallen from her hair to the carpeted floor and could not help but notice the curve of her porcelain breasts as they rose and fell above the deep neckline of her gown while she slept. _She is still young._ Movet chastised himself. _It is my duty to forge her into a weapon of the Emperor._ As he rose, he gave a heavy kick to the corner of the sofa and Mox startled awake, her black-booted feet jutting out from under the gown as she struggled to right herself. "Good morning." Darth Movet's voice made clear there was very little good about it. "Retire to your room, Apprentice. We will discuss our plans in three hours." She nodded blearily, frustrated she'd fallen asleep. _She got the job done. A few hours of proper sleep won't spoil her._

"Gar's son is a blithering idiot - even those noble girls had a hard time pretending he had value beyond his family's estate." Moxara detailed her findings of the night before, having only sent short memos to her master during the event. She had been surprised to find a tray of sandwiches and fruit waiting when she left her room and nibbled between explanations. "The daughter Leemara, however, was lovely. Gar dotes on her and will do anything to ensure her safety. She's invited me to tea this afternoon, so I have the perfect excuse to walk right in. I didn't know if you would need more time, but I figured it couldn't hurt to agree." Movet continued his habitual pacing, one arm across his chest and the other stroking his short beard. "Perfect, actually. I was able to intercept the unloading of the Republic weapons and… convince… the soldiers to take it to Gar's estate. I will have a chat with daddy dearest while you keep the daughter occupied, then you can bring her to me." Moxara swallowed a bite of fruit. "Simple enough. If he needs more convincing than being blackmailed for illegal Republic weapons, putting his daughter in any danger would make him compliant." "Precisely." Movet's reply was icy.

\--------------

Moxara sat in the Gar's tea room, smiling politely as the noble ladies chattered about plans for summer holidays. It had been simple for her to deflect questions of her own plans: "Oh, I will have to wait and see where my father's business takes him." _The best lies are always half truths._ "Oh dear," she announced as she felt her commlink vibrate in her pocket. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be. Leemara, would you be so kind as to see me out?" Her manners preventing her from doing otherwise, they took each others arms and walked to the main foyer. As soon as they were alone, Moxara pulled Leemara against the wall, covering her mouth as she whispered in her ear. "I'm not who you think I am, but you are in danger. You need to take me to your father right now." The young lady's eyes grew wide and brimmed with tears as she nodded fearfully. "You will be safe if you do as I say." She lowered her hand and resumed her grip on Leemara's arm, half-pushing her as they made their way up the staircase to Gar's study. When Leemara reached out to knock, Mox stopped her. "No: we're expected."

Through the door, they could hear Movet's cold voice: "Gar, we have made our expectations clear. You are in no position to alter your agreement with the Empire." Movet stood in the middle of the grand room while Gar sat at his desk, eyeing a holorecording of Republic weapons being brought into his compound's storehouse. "These aren't mine. I didn't do this!" he protested. "You made poor decisions and will be held accountable for the poor decisions of others, unless you re-open the trade routes and keep them that way." "You cannot threaten me!" the nobleman pounded his fist on the desk. "Perhaps not." _Enter._ His voice was as clear as day in Mox's mind.

She pulled the door open and pushed the girl through, then withdrew her blade from her hip and holding it to the girl's neck, holding her tightly with her left arm. Leemara struggled to face her, dripping tears: "You said my life was in danger!" "I did not say from whom." Mox's assumed the steely tone Movet favored. Movet's cold voice greeted her as Mox entered with her captive. "Well done, Apprentice." Gar stood and Movet quickly responded, commanding the Force as he slammed the man back into his chair. Gar gasped desperately: "Please, don't hurt my daughter." Movet held up a hand to silence him. "We will be housing a platoon of soldiers on your property for the foreseeable future, while trade routes are re-established. At your expense, of course." The lord paled and nodded frantically, but his eyes betrayed him as he assessed exit routes. The muffled footsteps of guards could be heard approaching the study - he must have triggered a panic call.

With a flick of his wrist, Darth Movet pulled Gar's chair forward, crushing the man painfully against his desk. "I will know if you do as you have been commanded, but it seems you need further incentive to remember where your loyalties lie." He turned to Moxara and gave a firm nod. _Kill her_. His voice was stern in Moxara's mind and she felt the heavy weight of the Dark Side pressing upon her, finding joy in slaying an enemy. _This is not the first kill I imagined - this girl is weak!_ She hesitated as her head throbbed, her master's order echoing as though for minutes, then snapped back to reality and drew the blade through the young woman's neck before releasing her corpse to bleed out on the floor. "NO!" Gar screamed in agony, flailing his arms while still pinned between chair and desk. "I said I would comply! I will comply!" "Oh, I know you will. You will remember." Turning quickly on his heel, Movet left the room, striding down the main corridor as Gar's voice muffled into his commlink between sobs, "Stand down... everyone stand down. Let them go" before dissolving into pained cries. Mox knelt and wiped her blade on the girl's skirt before sliding it back through the pocket of her dress to her belt. Quickly catching up to her master, she followed a pace behind and to his right as they walked out, servants rushing to open the grandiose front doors and gates for them. The message of the Empire's wrath had been conveyed.

\-----------------

"You hesitated." The back of Darth Movet's armored glove smashed across Moxara's face - she knew better than to try and dodge it. She fell to her knees, resisting the urge to clutch her face as the gash across her cheekbone began to bleed freely. "You will obey me, Apprentice. Look at me." She sat back on her heels and met his dark eyes with her steely blue gaze. _This is a game and I play my part. You are playing yours._ "I'm sorry Master. I am the Empire's tool, yours to do with as you see fit." From the pounding in her head, her own voice felt a kilometer away. He quickly raised his right fist and pulled it downward, gesturing as he commanded the Force to slam Moxara's small frame flat against the metal flooring of the ship. Her eyes teared as her lip split. "Mine to mold - my responsibility," he spat. "Your failures reflect upon ME." He paced in front of her. Moxara pushed herself up and sat back on her heels to look up at him again, the sting of her face buried with all of her other emotions. "I trust you to know what I require, Master." Her voice was cold and calculated. "Thank you for this lesson." With a disgusted sneer, Movet threw an open-handed slap across her head, knocking her unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Moxara awoke in her bed, her shoulder and face stinging. A cool compress fell off her head as she sat up and assessed the damage in the mirror. Only superficial scrapes on her cheek, thankfully, but her split lip had swelled. She cleared her mind, ensuring her throughs were private. _I did as he asked… but she was just a girl. There was no glory for the Empire in that murder._ Checking her comms, she verified it had only been an hour since they returned to the ship, but she could feel the pressure change - they had left Alderaan. She quietly cleaned herself and changed into a fresh set of clothes. Pulling the utility belt tightly around her tunic and tugging her long sleeves tight, she checked the mirror again. Grey-blue eyes stared back at her pale face. _This is the path I choose. Strength. Power. Freedom._ She bound her hair tightly and clipped her lightsaber to her belt before leaving her compartment.

Movet's voice echoed from the conference room as Mox approached the open door. "I have provided the evidence that the Republic was illegally stockpiling weapons on Alderaan as well as dealing with the supply-route issue. Gar will no longer be a problem." He stood at attention before a blue holo of a Moff, hands tightly behind his back and hawk-like face staring straight ahead. "Very well, Darth Movet. We will manage the situation going forward." The simpering Imperial officer looked down, seeming to check a report. "Something you may find interesting has come to my attention." "One moment - " Movet's voice rang in her head: _Come in, Apprentice_. She stepped into the small conference room and took a place behind his right shoulder, mimicking his stance. "We have discovered a Rebel outfit on Nar Shaddaa," the Moff resumed. "Technically neutral territory, under Hutt control, but of course, it would be best if that were nipped in the bud." "Transmit the information and I will see to it." "Done. The intelligence base will be expecting you. Your clearance codes have been transmitted." "For the glory of the Emperor." Movet announced as he ended the holocall. He turned to face Moxara, his black eyes assessing the damage to her face as he gave a thin smile. "Have Foohn set the course for Nar Shaddaa. Republic scum needs removing." _Real infiltration of real enemies!_ "Yes, Master."

When she joined Foohn in the cockpit, he was noticeably avoiding looking at her face. "It's fine, you know. Definitely not the worst I've had." She slid into the co-pilot's seat and pulled her knees to her chest. Foohn nodded, still staring straight ahead. "So, we're off to Nar Shaddaa," she continued, watching as he silently adjusted the navigation panel. "Ever been?" He succumbed to her prodding and gave a thin smile, his pointed teeth flashing: "One of my favorite places in the galaxy." Mox raised an eyebrow - her studies provided an overview of the political environment, then dismissed the moon as an over-populated haven of crime. That both the Empire and Republic housed bases there was frequently overlooked, as any altercations between the two could be attributed to the constant gang wars. "You can find anything for sale and everything is legal, so long as you don't get caught." Foohn added the last with a wink. "And you will not get caught." Movet's deep voice boomed behind them. Moxara flinched, releasing her legs to stretch down. "It is easy to hide in plain sight in Nar Shaddaa and we will walk openly as Sith, but one should never take the value of anonymity for granted." "Yes, Master." _I worked so hard at the Academy to stand out and be recognized, it feels unnatural to try and become a nobody._

Darth Movet began providing reports on her holopad, the formal records provided to the Empire of operations. Detailing transitions of power, ratifications of treaties, and even a clear coup, the documentation was always missing some vital detail. He would quiz Mox as to how certain leverage was obtained, what flaw existed in the prior system that exposed it to change, and what value was garnered for the Empire from each victory. "Resources, and access to resources, are core to maintaining the infrastructure of such a distributed architecture," he explained. "We do not keep a single armada, but we must not spread too thin." "We balance ease of access with level of necessity," she summarized. "Precisely. You are a good student, Apprentice." Centering her mind to maintain a calm face, she beamed inwardly at the praise.

While the ship hurtled through hyperspace, Moxara enjoyed the routine of Leensoah's crew. Thessa insisted on teaching her Pazaak, then refused to play after she mastered the logic of the simple card game. Mox pried small bits of information from Foohn, eager to learn about her master and their past travels, but couldn't get Bit to say more than words of greeting or farewell at mealtimes. The old man kept to himself, most often tinkering in his small workspace. The day before they landed on Nar Shaddaa, he had knocked on Mox's compartment door and handed her an identcard. "Just- just in case," he stuttered before leaving. "Thank you." Mox inspected the card. It aged her to twenty-two and named her Sabe Erya of Zeltros. The Inner Rim vacation destination was namely human-populated, so it wouldn't be questioned. Movet continued her training in the Force, challenging her will when she dropped her guard and insisting she master Force-camouflage to render stealth generator belts unnecessary. While there was not enough room to spar on the ship, they practiced the motions of multiple lightsaber forms.

The lights of the ecumenopolis were visible as the ship decelerated from hyperspace. Foohn set Leensoah down on the reserved spacedock with a gentle thud while Mox watched through a viewport. "Apparently our Intelligence contact won't be back until tomorrow," Movet spoke to the crew before they disembarked. "You all have clearance to enter and exit the ship as you see fit, but keep it secure - the gutter trash here are irritatingly persistent in trying to get a free ride off world." Thessa smiled broadly: "I have some shopping to do and an old friend to meet." "Same, but hoping to meet a new friend," Foohn's eyes twinkled. "I'm staying pu-pu-put for now." Bit mumbled and went back to his compartment. Movet nodded at them and pushed the button to lower the ramp. Both Foohn and Thessa had a noticeable spring in their step as they left. "Moxara." Movet stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if he were solving a problem. _Oh please don't make me stay on the ship!_ "You are free to explore - I'm sure neither Foohn nor Thessa would mind your company. Use this opportunity to observe." He handed her a thin metal card. "You are afforded an allowance. I have a small test for you, but you cannot use that," he gestured to the card. "Bring me something of value." Moxara blinked, processing the vague instruction. _That could be anything - I wonder what would please him._ "Yes, Master." "Go." With a dismissive wave, he ushered her off the ship and strode down the ramp to the refueling droids. Falling into a light jog, Moxara caught up with Foohn and Thessa as they left the secured dock.

The tall aliens kept tight to her shoulders as they took a mag-lev tube, the easiest mass transit option, and burst out with the masses into the noisy street. Rank-smelling steam leaked out of the underground sewer system, mixing with the unfiltered smog. Foohn guided them to a parts shop: "Bit gave me a list - I want to get his stuff and a few backup pieces for the ship." "So long as we get food soon," Thessa replied. "I'm tired of the repeat meals." Mox's eyes darted everywhere and she opened her mind to feel the energy of the diverse crowd around her. The din of multiple languages being shouted over each other was drowned out by hiss of an Balosarian who stopped right in front of them: "Hey, Sith - lookin' for stims? Adrenals?" Thessa elbowed him aside and pulled Moxie's hood up over her hair as they plowed through the crowd and into the parts shop. The structure of the Academy and the few Empire-ruled worlds she'd visited were so orderly - this pure chaos put her teeth on edge.

Foohn led the way to the parts shop while Thessa shoved Mox between them. "Maybe… maybe I should go back to the ship." Mox was a heartbeat away from using the Force to camouflage herself and flee. Thessa squeezed her shoulders and wrapped her in a powerful hug from behind. "You're safe, little Sith. More importantly, you were given a task." The Twi'lek's voice was seductively sweet and threatening in the same breath. Mox lowered her chin and steeled herself against the unknown as they filed into a small garage that reeked of motor oil and grease. Prying free of Thessa's arms, Moxara stood at the window and did as Movet had asked - she observed. She paid little attention to Foohn's negotiation with the owner as they discussed his parts list, but focused her breathing as she watched the harrowed throng of urbanites flow just a half meter away. Their fears were overt and palpable, so many desperate souls from such diverse parts of the galaxy, all looking to forge a new path here, or at least tread above the engulfing chasm of indentured servitude that somehow always laid a path to slavery. _I escaped that life - perhaps they could have, if only…_ Thessa grabbed her shoulder, breaking her train of thought and gestured at Foohn, who was signing the last certdoc with the owner. "Let's find a hot meal."

Bellies full and shoulders laden with bags, the trio returned to the ship. Movet was nowhere to be seen and Bit's door remained closed. The vibrant sunset caused by the polluted atmosphere faded away while Thessa and Foohn agreed to share a shuttle to the central promenade. "Mind if I tag along?" Mox asked. "No, but we will be heading separate ways at that point," Thessa clarified, her implication clear: Mox would not be welcome where she was going. "Not a problem." She fingered the forged identcard in her pocket as she continued to ponder Movet's assignment. _Something valuable._

The crowd at the promenade was visibly shifting as legitimate vendors closed up their shops and less-than-reputable locations turned on brightly glowing lights of invitation. Mox's black cloaked-figure was no longer out of place as she wandered down the streets. As the door of a cantina swung open, she could see the bar was half-full, a variety of humans and aliens shouting at each other over the loud music. _New experiences_ , she thought. _He did tell me to observe_. She walked in and plunked on a stool at the end of the bar. The red-skinned woman wiping a glass clean raised an eyebrow at the young blonde. "Little young for this place, aren't you?" Moxara kept her practiced glare that had served her so well at Academy. "I'm old enough and have credits." The bartender shrugged, "What'll you have?" _Didn't even have to use the identcard! Movet would be proud of my retaining my anonymity._ "Whiskey, neat." Bit held up two fingers as he slid onto the stool next to Mox. She raised an eyebrow and slid her credit across to the bartender in exchange for the short glasses of amber liquid. Bit raised his to Mox in toast: "May our decisions not haunt us." He took a long sip and Mox did the same, forcing herself to not cough as it burned down her throat. As she decided how to ask Bit about himself, a group of rowdy young men piled in the door and began shouting orders to the bartender.

Their similar clothing suggested they were members of a gang - each wore a grey and green shawl in a varied manner, as a head covering, around his waist, and the like. "We've got 'em this time, boys!" "That last turn, man, every damn time." "Two hours 'til go!" Moxara's eyes grew wide - _a real, live swoop race!_ She had only seen holos while at the Academy. She elbowed Bit and whispered, "I have to see this!" The old man shrugged and knocked back the rest of his drink. "Do-do-don - just be smart." He gave her a knowing nod as he stood, waved thanks to the bartender, and eased his way through the crowd to leave. Emboldened with the prospect of an adventure, Moxie pushed her black hood back and spun her stool around to face the increasingly-rowdy men. "I'd love to see the action," she threw a flirtatious smile as she re-crossed her ankles. "Oh, I'd show her some action," one of the guys at the back elbowed his buddy as they laughed. One of the younger men leaned against the bar where Bit had been sitting. "So long as you're cheering for the Bek's, you'll be safe with us." He gave a lusty wink but exuded a genuine nature. "I'm Rakon, and you are?" She raised her glass to clink his: "Sabe, Sabe Erya." He turned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders while facing the rest of his group: "Sabe's gonna be cheerin' the Bek's tonight! Let's RIDE!" The roar of their combined cheer was deafening as they finished their drinks and slammed glasses on the bar before leaving, Moxie in tow.

On the back of Rakon's sleek speeder, she clung to his waist as they bobbed and weaved through Nar Shaddaa. She gave up trying to track the turns as they merged and flowed with the group, descending into the lower city. Rows of speeders were parking along the barricaded street as the crowd built. There was a vibrant energy unlike anything Mox has felt before: the very air felt electric. Music competed from different groups, each blaring their favored style, a cacophony that matched the diverse mob aggregating to watch the race. Sliding off the back of Rakon's speeder, she let him guide her to the Bek's prep area. They milled about as he slapped friends on their backs and even took the time to say a brief prayer for the safety of their driver. _How quaint._ When a deafening buzzer echoed off the narrow city walls, a hush fell on the crowd, but for a single booming voice: "HEAT ONE IN 10 SECONDS." They pulled back from the five bikes. Three loud ticks and a ding rang out, then all that remained of the bikes was a puff of exhaust. Tension was high as most of the crowd looked down at their chronometers and a few referenced holopads with video feeds. Mox counted in her head and reached thirty-seven seconds when the first two bikes returned, neck-and-neck. She bit her lip - neither was the Bek's - but he quickly followed in a safe third. Rakon gave a heavy sigh of relief. "We have a break before the second heat - I need to see to some business. Be right back, babe." He gave her a side-hug and peeled off. _Business? I wonder what kind…_ Mox followed carefully through the crowd before plastering herself against a wall and Force-stealthing into the shadows. She resumed tailing him for a few blocks, then watched as he pulled a key from his back pocket and knelt to undo a lock on a non-descript garage door. He rolled it up just enough to crouch under, and Mox slid in along the side. Her eyes stung when he turned on the bright flourescent lights, illuminating two rows of speeders, each under cloth coverings. Rakon walked to a back office and knocked on the door before entering. Following silently, Mox could see two humans through the office window and heard them bantering. Best to stay outside. "Rakon, my man!" they greeted him. "New set of codes are ready - this SIS decrypter is making it a cake-walk." "Just, keep it quiet, okay?" A woman's voice betrayed her fear. "The Republic can barely get agents off the ground from here anymore, but with the prototype accelerator, the races give us the perfect cover." "I know, I know Stemba. You worry about moving the bikes without the Hutt's interfering and I'll get these codes to my contact tomorrow." "Tomorrow? I thought you were meeting him tonight." Her voice was stern. "Yeah, well…" "Oh damn, you met a girl again, didn't you?" Mox stifled a chuckle as she watched the man give Rakon a friendly punch. _Decrypting codes for Republic SIS - if that's not of value to Movet, I'll eat my lightsaber._ "Speaking of, can I grab two brews from the fridge? I should get back." "Like we could stop you. Just get the job done." Mox quickly went to the garage door so she could slide out when he lifted it again. "I always do!" Rakon's voice rang out cheerfully as he left the office.

Moxara waited until she was on the edge of the crowd to de-cloak herself, then mingled her way back to the prep area where Rakon had left her. "So three heats, and the winner gets?" She asked one of the Beks. "I mean, the credits don't suck, but the bragging rights - those are forever." The young man laughed. "Hey, back off!" Rakon elbowed his friend and handed Mox a bottle. "Something sweet for someone sweet?" She rolled her eyes as his friend groaned. "Thanks, cutie." She threw him a simpering smile as if the cheesy line had won her over. _Egad, some girls go for that crap?_ As they pushed against the barrier with the crowd to watch the second heat, she sipped the fizzy brew, listening to the gang discuss tactics and past races. _This is fun, but I really should get back._ She slid her hand into Rakon's back pocket and gave him a sly smile when he looked down at her. She gave his butt a quick squeeze before removing her hand - and the key to the garage. When the third race concluded, the Bek's racer had finished a solid second, and the gang grouped around to congratulate him. Watching Rakon rush forward with his friends, Moxara slid back into the crowd before pulling her black hood up and fading into the night.

When Moxara entered her code and boarded the Leensoah, the soft glow of urban dawn was upon her. She Force-cloaked, shimmering into the background as she moved with the quietest steps, hoping to return to her compartment before the others, namely her master, awoke. "That is unnecessary, Apprentice." Movet's voice was droll as he looked over his holopad. Sitting at the center table with a mug of steaming caf, his sharp eyes pierced her veil. She stood up straight as she de-cloaked and pushed her hood back off her hair, approaching her master with relative calm. She paused a meter away and gave a curt bow. "Mox. What did you bring me?" He held out his large palm expectantly. Pursing her lips, she dug her hands into her pockets and removed them as tightly balled fists, then held them behind her back. "Pick a hand?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly, hoping he was up for a small jest. His low chuckle eased her concern: "Fine; right." She smiled, relieved at his choice, and opened the hand to reveal a key on a small gray and green fob. "A key to the Hidden Bek's speeder bay, which includes a championship-winning bike with a prototype accelerator. Pretty nice tech, apparently." Movet glared down at her hand, leaving the key as he lowered his arm. "I have no need for a racing bike. That is of zero value to me." Sensing his tense disappointment, she opened the other hand, which was empty. "You bring me… nothing." "Actually," Mox interrupted him boldly, "Information." She clasped her hands together and held them open with the key in between. "The Bek's are running for the Pub intelligence base on Nar Shaddaa. The bikes are a front: they deliver encrypted messages when they planet hop for swoop races." She paused, cautiously optimistic. "The computer they use for the decryption is…" "In the speeder bay." Movet interrupted and gave the smallest of half-smiles. He plucked the key from her hands and she dropped them in relief. He turned and placed the key on the table next to his holopad before turning back to her. "Apprentice." She forced herself to look up, the exhaustion of the night bearing down heavily on her. "Well done. Get some sleep." She smiled and padded off to her compartment.

The Intelligence base felt like every Imperial office Moxara had ever visited. An officer in a crisp navy uniform led them through rows of consoles where analysts quietly worked, beginning his briefing. "We're so glad you were able to join us, Darth Movet." Mox noted the gray hairs sticking out under the young man's cap. _This can't be the least stressful job in the Empire._ "We have finally pinpointed the lat-longs of the Republic base. It would be a great opportunity to," he paused, giving an ugly sneer, "exterminate the rodents." Movet raised an eyebrow: "pray tell, what do you have in mind?" The officer threw up a holomap of the lower city area, marking an entrance. "This information came with a boon. The base is directly above a water reclamation center that feeds much of the lower city scum. If we could (tamper with…) that pipeline, not only would we clean up the repugnant gangs that keep nicking our supplies, but we could make it look like the Republic was responsible." He crossed his arms, smug with his plan. Moxara's mind flitted to Rakon and his comrades, all the souls who had been so welcoming to her last night. _They chose to defy the Empire_ , she justified. _But still._ "I will need some supplies, but this should not prove difficult." Movet paced thoughtfully. "Do you have an estimate of the number of targets?" The officer nodded; "our scout has witnessed an average of fifteen humanoids entering and leaving daily, but these are the three high-priority targets." He flicked the holo and switched from the map to headshots of a Twi'lek male, human female, and a Kel Dor Moxie could only assume was male. "Give me the list of equipment you require and I will have a holopad ready for you with the intel." "See that you do." Mox could feel the officer's sigh of relief as her master turned and strode out of the building as he shimmered under a Force-cloak.

Once away from the unmarked entrance, Mox followed his lead in de-cloaking. Though a few passerby dared pause to stare at the black-armored duo, most were busy with their own illicit activities. She hurried to follow his long strides, eager to learn of his plans. "Closed quarters combat with high odds." His voice was low and she double-stepped to walk at his side. "Take out lighting? Compromise ventilation?" Mox proposed and dared to look up at her master's face. His dark eyes met hers as he gave a curt nod. "We are limited to the main entrance, but can control where they flee. If we hit the power controls, they are like to cluster - did you see the back room…" "the server room? Where they will flee to wipe data when they realize we've attacked?" she interrupted. "Very good, apprentice."

When they made it back to the ship, Moxara ventured a question that had been weighing on her mind. "Master, why did you select me to be your apprentice?" "Hmm?" Movet looked up from his holopad. "You were the only one to complete your trial, of course." "I did not compete in trials, though…" her brow furrowed. "Really? You think it was pure accident that your advisor 'suggest' you prove yourself by gaining access to an event where you were unwelcome?" "It was an offhand conversation, I suppose." "Mox, not all trials consist of chucking Acolytes in a pit to fight to the death, or sending them to the depths of a cave to find some useless trinket. You see the work I do, and we will always need capable Sith Assassins. I sent out feelers with my contacts to find apprentices with a more - versatile - skill set." She mulled this over and he gave a small chuckle. "What?" "You're picking up my bad habit of pacing when working through a problem." Surely enough, she'd been walking a short path by the hotolable. "I do hope I have been picking up good habits as well." "Don't be pert." His dark eyes glimmered to suggest he was not as angry as his voice conveyed. She sat beside him at the hototable and began taking notes on the equipment he wanted from the Intelligence team.

"Master, may I propose a new plan?" "I'm open to suggestions." "What if we go in when the office is empty." "The whole point is to nullify the group before they can get a transmission out." "Well, yes, but what if they aren't all inside? What if…" she changed the holomap view to show the level above the Republic offices, "I went in through this vent at night and then did surveillance." Movet squinted. "I don't like the risk of you going in alone." _Unless it's a damned tea party._ "Look, I could place listening devices at each of these air filters, then be waiting in the server room. It has vented floors to control temperature, and I can fit easily." "We'd need to slow the fans in the ventilation shafts to get the listening devices in, as well as you, but can't stop them abruptly - the noise would be noticed." She nodded: "so, the blades are always made of metal - an electro-magnet can achieve that tidily!" Her voice grew high with excitement. _Of course, I've only read about this use back at the academy, but it works in theory._ Movet hemmed and hawed as he weighed the proposition. "Go on."

The next days were spent finalizing details and arranging for the equipment. "Make sure you keep your hood up over that … ostentatious hair." Movet scowled. She pulled the heavy black fabric up, though it limited her peripheral vision, and gave a short bow. "As my master wishes." "Then don't be pert." He scowled and waved her away. There was no more he could control and it would do him no good to ponder on it. She would be radio silent until it was time he played his part, and while he had good faith in the plan his apprentice had devised, he hated not being in control.

The ventilation panel unscrewed quickly and Mox returned the tool to her bandolier. She shimmied into the shaft and pulled the panel back into place before continuing down toward the Republic security offices. The going was slow as she moved silently - time was on her side, as no one was expected in the office for hours - but she arrived at the first checkpoint, a small fan that whirred above the main entryway. Reaching into her hip pouch, she withdrew the electromagnet and placed it an centimeters above the fan before slowly sliding it downward. The fan slowed, the wide metal blades fighting the magnet as she'd hoped. She slid her black-gloved hand though and tacked the micro-camera on the edge of the fan base within the room before withdrawing, then easing the magnet back up with her. One down - five to go. It took over two hours to place the rest before she shimmied along to her final destination - the server room.

_So far so good Moxie!_ She reached the last fan and paused - it wasn't metal. The single central fan of the room had meter-long blades of ceramic. _To reduce static and dust, of course… damnit!_ Her magnet would be useless. She glanced at her chronometer and confirmed she had thirty minutes before the first shift would come on site. Tucking her magnet back into her pouch, she pondered her options. The gaps between the four long blades were narrow, but if she held it without breaking the blades, she could slip through. _Or it lops my head off…_ She drew a deep breath and concentrated the force on the blades, pulling them against their motor. They hovered and quaked as they came to a still. _Now or never._ She dove down into the dark room and rolled as she landed on the grated metal floors. The blades resumed spinning with a heavy whoosh that Mox swore echoed her own relief. The large server cabinets were noisy and the heat was stifling. The command console stood at the far end of the small office, where the Republic officers would ostensibly flee when they realized they were under attack. She placed the small remote explosive next to the power input, so once the 'pubs were gathered, she could blow it - they would be cornered and have failed at sending any last messages. It would be simple cleanup for her master. She lifted the floor grate in the corner nearest the door and lowered herself into the recessed flooring where cool air was pumped. With mere centimeters of room on each side, she lay straight as a rail on her back and pulled the grate back into place. It's all up to you now, Master.

The small buzz on her wristguard alerted her that Movet had entered the building, but she continued to lay in wait. She counted boots and screams, listening for voices that called out and then stopped. At least four had fallen when the server room door was thrown open. Heavy boots tromped into the room, triggering the motion-activated lights, and headed straight for the control console as she had hoped. She took a deep breath and waited, hoping to hear her master or at least two more pubs before she blew it. The clash of two lightsabers surprised her into pushing the trigger. She heard the three pubs in the room gasp and she popped out of her hiding spot and activated her saber. She quickly cut down the unarmed men and headed for the door when his voice rang out in her head. _Destroy the console and flee - there's a Jedi Master!_ The rapid crashing of lightsabers grew closer as Moxara turned and plunged her own weapon through the mainframe console. _I'm not leaving you._ Looking down the narrow hallway, she spied the battle unfolding through the fog of the smoke bombs - the Kel Dor from the dossier wore the heavy brown robes of a Jedi Master and was unleashing a barrage of attacks with his green saber. Movet deflected and paused, thrusting a massive Force Push to knock the Jedi back. _I SAID FLEE!_ He shouted in her head as the Jedi renewed his attack. Blaster fire rang past the Kel Dor and Mox dodged around him to hunt down the remaining targets. _Not without you!_ She screamed back silently as she sliced off the arm of one remaining pub and impaled the other. Returning to her master's battle, she watched as the Jedi landed a blow to Movet's right bicep, cutting him deeply. "No!" Mox screamed, watching his weapon arm fall limp as the Jedi rounded on her. "Stand down, Sith." The Kel Dor's voice was too calm for the extent of their battle, striking true fear into Mox. She deactivated her lightsaber and clipped it to her hilt. _Get ready to run_ , she thought to Movet. Shoving her arms in front of her, she threw all of her energy into a massive Force Push, and the barest element of surprise allowed her to knock the Jedi back against the wall. Movet ploughed toward her, grabbing her arm as they fled for the main entrance and out into the street, quickly Force-cloaking and speeding as far away as possible before the Jedi could follow.


	5. Chapter 5

In Leensoah's medical bay, Moxara unclipped Movet's cloak and helped him out of his tunic, carefully prying the fabric away from his wounded arm. Keeping her mind shielded, she admitted her personal relief at not having sabotaged the water supply, but did not look forward to her master's recourse - once he was patched up. Blood seeped down the edges of the cauterized wound that had carved into his arm and he scowled as she rummaged through the drawers for a kolto injector. "Oh, damnit!" Thessa's normal trill was gone as she walked past the door and found them. She dropped her bundle in the hall and pushed Mox aside, snapping gloves over her hands and opening a cabinet to grab the injector and a swab. Movet made eye contact with neither of them as he sat on the table and submitted to Thessa's treatment. Moxara slowly backed to the doorway when her master's eyes snapped up. "Apprentice. Use the holo. Tell the so-called Intelligence officers I would like a word. Immediately, and in person." She bowed out of the room. _Hopefully his ire lands on them and avoids me…_

An hour later, they had returned to the Sith Intelligence base in the heart of Nar Shaddaa. Darth Movet's eerie calm reminded Mox of the Kel Dor's - the dangerous quiet at the center of a truly devastating storm. Relieved she'd been sent from the medical bay, she still heard his roar as Thessa had re-opened the wound and applied the medpac to regrow the muscle properly. He held his arm stiffly across his chest as they walked straight through the bustling office to where the captain stood behind his desk. Moxara kept her eyes low beneath her hood, standing behind her master. "Darth Movet, welcome back." His thin lips parted in terror as he was thrown back against the wall and pinned up against it. "Perhaps you forgot something." Movet's voice was a dark growl as he opened his clenched hand, letting the pale officer fall back to his feet, gasping for air. "My lord, I do not know of what you…" He was interrupted as he was slammed against the wall again. "Your dossier left out a particularly important detail. Do you think it MAY have been useful to know the Kel Dor was a Jedi Master?" The officer's eyes grew wide with panic: "I... I… we did not know, my lord. I would never intentionally…" "No, you wouldn't. And you won't again." With a twist of his wrist, there was a sickly snap and the captain's corpse fell to the floor. Moxara followed as he spun on his heel and marched out of the now-silent office.

She was surprised when he turned off the street that would have led them back to the spaceport and instead pushed through the door of a dim cantina. He waved her to a table at the back while he ordered from the bar, bringing two glasses back to the table with him. "You favor red wine, correct?" he asked, sliding the glass to her. He took a long pull of his amber liquor and she hesitated before taking a sip of the burgundy wine. "Apprentice, I need to know that you will be obedient in the future." She opened her mouth to speak and he held up a hand to hush her. "You are young and do not always see the big picture, but you put both of us at risk when you disobeyed my order." Mox sipped her wine again to avoid spouting a rebuttal. "One Jedi, I can hold off, but I cannot do that and defend you. You are the Emperor's property and my responsibility. Do you understand?" She couldn't help but admire his onyx eyes sparkling in the low light as she felt the shame of understanding his perspective. "I'm sorry I was impulsive, Master." He nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. "That said, you did the rest of your job well. You should know that I am, on the whole, pleased with your capacity to analyze the situation and execute to plan. I will report as much when we return to Dromund Kaas to await our next assignment." Struggling to restrain a smile, she nodded under her hood. "I am glad that I please you, Master." They finished their drinks in a comfortable silence and Movet tossed credits on the bar top as they left, heading back to the ship.

Mox resumed her pattern of joining Foohn in the cockpit each morning, studying his piloting techniques and learning more about astrogation. "You'll have your own ship, one day, and cannot always rely on your pilot." His soft voice imparted further wisdom. "With Movet's approval, I will have you set her down on Dromund Kaas. They have very forgiving landing pads." "And I shall gladly grant that permission." Movet's voice rang out from down the hall. _I cannot imagine how they withstand having him always in their minds. I'm so glad I can block him out._ Foohn smiled at her, correctly interpreting her small scowl. Thessa's cheer from visiting friends and family on Nar Shaddaa faded away quickly as she attempted to tend to Darth Movet, whose temper had been poor since his injury and the incomplete mission. Bit remained invisible as usual, only venturing out of his room to take meals. Moxie surmised he would not have done as much unless required.

Her exhale of relief matched the shutoff of the ship's thrusters as Mox settled the Leensoah onto their designated landing platform. Foohn smiled broadly, bright teeth glimmering, as she flicked the shutoff switches. "Not bad for your first time!" She smiled to herself, thinking of how very many firsts she had experienced in the last six months, from sleeping with Vext to getting her first lightsaber, two new planets and a swoop race, her first kill… She unclipped her harness and gave Foohn's shoulder a firm squeeze of thanks as she left the cockpit. _Things to meditate on later._ Her master had made very clear she was to stay in the training halls or library while they were in the Sith capital. Disappointed in not being included in whatever business he had, she nodded and acquiesced, parting with him at the main entrance and heading to the library. A few questions had been niggling at the back of her mind…

The massive halls of the empty library echoed with every step she took. Rows upon rows of archived data at her fingertips, she strolled through the long corridor and sat at one of the holodesks that allowed her a good view of the entrance. The early afternoon bore few visitors as she began her search of public records. The Empire was renown for retaining information on family lineage in order to identify and indoctrinate Force-sensitives such as herself. She keyed in her own name and was relieved to find the data consistent, listing her age, flagged as Force-sensitive, parents: deceased. She wondered if that should have impacted her, but it didn't. Her vague memories of her father before she was taken by the Empire had faded to shadowy glimpses of an unhappy childhood. Skimming further, it listed her years at the academy and the year of her assignment to Darian Mazurous. _Oh, of course Movet wasn't a birth name._ "Darian," she tasted the name on her lips in the quietest whisper. _I like it._ She clicked into his profile. Birth year: 3666. _Only eight years older - I'd assumed more._ Her mouth fell open as she saw his birth loctation. _Kessel, the same as me… he was a slave, too_. Mox scrolled down through his history and found a list of assignments - all redacted. _Probably a good sign to stop snooping._ Closing the window, she read through some recent holonews - mostly Imperial propaganda - and was relieved there as nothing about their last two missions.

Leaving the capital building, she wandered down the drizzly streets of the metropolis. The busy city had a quiet order, in stark contrast to her experience on Nar Shaddaa. Speeders flew down streets in a steady flow as the pedestrian traffic bustled along. Keeping her hood up, she ducked out of the constant rain of Dromund Kaas, the famous storm that had encapsulated the entire planet for centuries, and into a weapons emporium. The bored shopkeep perked up when she entered and she waved him off, "just browsing," but an elegant pair of bracers with spring-loaded toxic darts caught her eye. She ran a finger along the thick black leather and continued to peruse things she couldn't dream of affording. _Not yet, anyway._ With a heavy sigh, she headed back out into the rain. Wandering the streets, she felt an ominous looming and kept checking over her shoulder, but saw nothing odd. She shrugged off and headed back to the temple. Hopefully the practice courts would be busy so she could get some training in while she awaited her master's instructions. With no idea when he would return, she took her time.

"Were my instructions not clear, apprentice?" Movet's voice rang down from the balcony over the practice court as she entered. The other combatants paused to look up, startled by his voice. _Oh hell. I didn't think he'd care if I did some damn window shopping…_ She knew better than to shout back, but walked around the edge of the large arena and took the long staircase up to him. To her relief, the echoes of staves clashing together, lightsabers swooping through the air, and thuds of bodies hitting the padded floor resumed. "Were. My. Instructions. Unclear?" he seethed through his teeth when she drew close. "My apologies, Master. Had you messaged my holocom, I would have returned…" "I swear, Moxara, that we just had this discussion." He began trudging through the onyx hallways and she hurried to follow. "It seems you nee a reminder that will … be retained." Moxara's pale skin faded further as she blanched, pacing behind her master down into the lower levels of the citadel. Pausing at a guard in plain gray robes who bowed deeply before them, Movet demanded, "what is open now?" The guard flicked through his holopad: "dungeon Isk, fifth on the left, my lord." The door slid open at his touch and Moxara swallowed deeply, entering the room that served as a dungeon, interrogation cell, and torture chamber.

When the door closed behind them, Movet spun around quickly, causing her to flinch and move back against a steel rack. "Now, you are going to scream, and you are going to listen." He gathered purple lightning in his outstretched hand. She had felt those spikes of pain - all Sith neophytes did at some point - and was not eager to repeat the experience. She shut her eyes and waited, but the horrific shocks never came. Instead, she pried her lids open to see him looming mere centimeters over her, still wielding the crackling ball of Force-induced electricity. His coal-black eyes glared down at her and his voice was low "I said, scream." She let out a terrified screech as he unleashed the bolts against the wall opposite her. "Now, listen." Just above a whisper, he continued. "I have enemies here. There are many who would see me rise to positions of power only to have the excuse to cut me down, and others who would simply prefer my voice silenced. Now scream." She did as he asked and he flung another torrent of electrical sparks against the wall. "They will try to use you to get to me, and I cannot have that. You must not take your role as my apprentice lightly and they must not know I favor you." He nodded and she bit her lip, and bowed her head in return. "I will come back for you in a few hours, when my business is done." She looked up at his face, stoic with strong, chiseled features, but sensed a spark of fear in his eyes. "As you wish, Master," she croaked, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. "Good. And Moxara?" She could not bring herself to move in response. "You _will_ learn to obey. Now scream." Willing her voice to a shrill shriek of pain, Movet threw a final blast of lightning against the wall, letting it crackle and persist before he left the chamber, closing the door tightly behind him.

She slid down the wall in utter stupor. Of course the power-plays among high-ranking Sith were constant, but they were at war, and the Empire was nothing if not protective of all high-value resources - their skilled Sith most of all. It was an act of treason against the Empire to assault another Sith, even in a formal Kaggath, during war time. With a heavy sigh, she resigned herself to the small dark cell for as long as he left her there, but a small smile crept across her lips as she went over the conversation in her head. He favors me. That was a very curious choice of words. Mox crossed her legs and guided herself to a meditative state to await her master's return, struggling to tug her mind from her tall, stoic master. _He wasn't angry at me; he was afraid for me._ She had felt the heat of his breath during their exchange and the intensity of his eyes. _I will obey. I would follow him into the very star we orbit, should he ask._

Her silent reverie was broken hours later when the door slid open. As she struggled to stand, her legs cramped from her meditative position, she realized it was not Darth Movet at the door but a Sith-blooded lord in high-ranking regalia. "My apologies, my lord," she stumbled over her words as she bowed. "I was expecting my master's return." "Moxara Eyal, correct?" His nasal voice was a sneer, unpleasant to her ears. "Yes, my lord." "Darth Movet is waiting - I will take you to him." His eyes told a thousand lies as his lips told the one. "Unfortunately, I must decline, my lord. I am under very specific instructions to wait here." She lowered her head again, hoping her hood fully covered her fearful scowl, and remained still. The slam of the door announced his retreat. _Was that a test, or worse, one of his enemies?_ She leaned against the wall, hoping she'd made the right decision, lest she be left in the bedamned dungeon to rot. An hour later, a loud rapping on the door alerted her to another visitor. Prying herself off the floor again, she stood as the guard from the end of the hallway entered with two Imperial officers. "She the one you want? The guard said as he backed out of the way. The officers nodded at each other and one raised a blaster. "Moxara Eyal, you are under arrest for sedition against the Empire." Her eyes grew wide. "That's… not… possible!" She stammered, as the unarmed man advanced with stun-cuffs. "You really don't want to do that." _I doubt I could make it far out of the Citadel, but how many of them are there!_ She let down her mental shield reached out silently, hoping Movet was somewhere near. _Master, they've come for me. I don't know who_. She backed into the corner of the small cell, hoping she could draw both officers close enough to dodge around them. _I'm coming. Get ready to knock them back._ Moxara could hear his voice, but moreover, for the first time, she could feel him through the Force as he flew through the citadel and down toward her. His urgency and… something else - a raw passion. He was augmenting his speed as the officer with the cuffs came closer. "Don't do anything stupid," the blaster-wielder shouted as she raised her hand from her lightsaber hilt and stepped to the side, carefully angling the guard to block her. NOW! She unleashed a Force-push, thrusting one guard into the other and back out into the hall. With a low hum and woosh, a black cloud flew past, drawing a thin red line through them. As the pieces of the men oozed across the stone floor, Movet returned, slowing to a normal speed in front of her. "Cloak and follow. We must leave. Now." A million questions flew through Moxara's head, but she did as she had promised him - and herself - and obeyed.

As they rose up into the main hallway, a platoon of six crimson-clad royal guards processed down the center corridor, their long staves slamming hard against the onyx floor as they marched. Movet ducked behind a large pillar and waited until they passed, pacing quickly to the speeder dock outside. He flung himself in the first available one with an open backseat and Moxara tumbled in behind him, coming out of her Force-camouflage as she fell into his lap. Movet gave the pilot droid directions to the Leensoah's dock and took Mox's elbow to help her sit up. He sent a message to Foohn on his commlink to ensure the interceptor would be ready to embark as soon as they arrived, while Mox kept her lips tight. _He will tell me when he wants. I hope._ She turned her head away to watch the dark towers of the capital blur past, and to hide her blush, realizing her mind was still unshielded. If he cared to respond, he kept it to himself. Whatever had happened - whoever was pursuing them - had not prevented the ship from taking off. Movet flung himself into the co-pilot seat and buckled in as Mox strapped herself into the jumpseat.

Once the ship was in hyperspace, Movet gathered the crew to the conference room. "I fear we have been put in a bit of an awkward position for the forseeable future," he began, voice steady as he scanned from Thessa around the table past Bit and to Foohn. Moxara stood behind his right shoulder with her head down under her hood. "While the incomplete mission on Nar Shaddaa was unfortunate, there have been certain… revelations," the word dripped off his tongue "as to where loyalties lie." His strong chest rose as he took a deep breath. "While you did not all enter my service willingly, you did elect to remain." Foohn gave a small nod of his pale, bald head as he kept his long fingers balled in his lap. "And while my decision to set an example with the Intelligence Officer was public knowledge, his ties to the Republic were not. I kept that information to myself." Movet paused, pushing his hood back from his dark black hair. "So when I provided my report and was informed it was old intel, you can understand my frustration." Moxara felt the thrill of dark energy swirl around him, his anger concentrated into power at his ready disposal. With another breath, it dissipated and he continued: "I have lost favor within the sphere and will be relegated to a series of diplomatic efforts on behalf of the Empire. This is, obviously, very disappointing to me, as I consider that sort of work a waste of my skills. That said, there will be no forseeable danger to my _loyal_ crew members." Thessa stood, her lekku twitching as her eyes flicked about, knowing there was no escape from the ship in hyperspace. "The credits were too good - they threatened my family!" she shrieked, as Movet waved his hand for her to sit. "Had you come to me, I would have remedied the situation. Thankfully, Bit was doing his job and traced the communication you sent to Darth Thanaton." Thessa cried into her hands, a horrid screeching noise that reminded Mox of her feigned pain in the dungeon of the citadel. "It was, actually, very clever to try and make the communications look like they came from my apprentice." He looked over his shoulder to Mox then back to Thessa. "Had they not tried to hurt my apprentice, I may have even felt sorry for you and let you live. That is, however, not the case." Thessa fled for the door and with a wave of his large hand, Movet blasted her against the wall and caused her to collapse on the floor, unconscious. "I regret to inform the rest of you that we will be short a medic."

The crew assembled by the airlock after Movet had unceremoniously chucked the twi'lek's limp body through the hatch. Foohn brought the ship out of hyperspace at Movet's command and they stalled in the mid-rim. Movet pressed the outer hatch release and all four watched the pale violet being sucked out to float into nothingness. "Let this be not a warning, but a promise." Moxara noted her master's voice carried the weight of sadness and hard decisions. The toast she and Bit had shared on Nar Shaddaa flashed across her memory: "May our decisions not haunt us." The crew separated across the ship and went about their business. The tone would remain somber for the next two years.


End file.
